When They Were Children
by Draco Cake
Summary: ...they were absolute terrors. A collections of stories featuring the childhood adventures of different characters from J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter universe.
1. A Good Boy

_**A/N:**_ _If you're the kind of person who laughs very easily (like me) don't read this in a public place or you'll be dragged off to St. Mungo's without delay. Oh, and please, please, please review, even if you hate this and throw up from boredom all over your computer. Review even if it's just to sue me for wrecking your computer!_

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Narcissa Malfoy entered her bedroom to see her dressing table in a state of total disrepair. All four of the dainty stools that sat before it were thrown about the room; their silken cushions ripped open, snow white feathers strewn across the plush carpet. Empty make-up containers littered the ground as well as make-up brushes and powder puffs.

With a sinking heart, Narcissa recognized her fifty-galleons-an-ounce perfume bottle shattered in a corner, surrounded by a pool of perfume, the shards glittering in the light cast by the massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

Valuable, passed-down-from-generations jewellery spilled out of bejewelled boxes that had clearly been pushed off the gold-plated, oak dressing table. A shattered china castle lay against the wall opposite. The mirror on the table had a huge crack running across it and was wailing disconsolately.

Open lipstick tubes, snapped eyeliner pencils, broken compacts, and empty lotion bottles were scattered across the table. Drawers had been pulled out, their contents adding to the mess on the floor. Expensive silk robes were ripped and stained with liquid eyeliner and lip-gloss, and sprinkled with powder.

Atop the dresser sat an angelic looking, blonde haired, five year old boy. Quite obviously the culprit, his hair was filled with what looked like the contents of an entire bottle of StarWitch Hair Gel. An eyeliner pencil was tucked behind an ear, and a diamond tiara sat crookedly upon his head. Several necklaces hung from his neck and bangles adorned his wrists and ankles. Rings had been placed upon his thumbs and big toes.

He was sitting beside a pile of opened, upset nail polish bottles. With his pink tongue sticking out from between his teeth, he very carefully drew something with black nail-polish across his left forearm.

"DRACO!" Narcissa shrieked.

The little boy started and looked up. "Mummy!" he squeaked, "Look!" He proudly displayed his arm and the creation upon it.

Narcissa paid no attention. "What have you done?" she wailed.

"It was fun," Draco said carelessly. As if to prove his point, he picked up a beautiful, intricately painted china-doll princess and hurled her across the room as hard as he could. She hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces.

Narcissa clutched her chest, gasping, and collapsed on her bed.

Draco, heedless, jumped down and tried to tip the table over.

"NO! DRACO, YOU STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!"

Draco took no notice of his hysterical mother.

"DRACO!" Narcissa howled, "YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE MUMMY CRY!"

The table fell with a deafening crash. Narcissa burst into tears. Draco beamed.

"You—you're a terrible boy," Narcissa hiccupped, "You've made Mummy very sad. Bad Draco!"

Draco's face turned red, "I'm not!" he shouted, "I'm a good boy! Daddy said so!" He picked up one of the only unbroken jewellery boxes and flung it out the window. It landed with a splash in the lily pond, startling several swans into flight. A sapphire bottle, a powder puff, several jewelled combs, and a five ounce bottle of nail polish were the next casualties of his rage.

Narcissa buried her face in her hands and let out a heartbreaking wail. She didn't know what she had done to deserve such a son. But when Draco reached for his mother's engagement ring, which until now, had been on his big toe, she knew she had to do something.

"Draco! I'm sorry! You're a very good, good, _good_ boy!"

It was too late; the ring sailed out the window, twinkling merrily in the sun, unaware of its fast approaching watery fate. Narcissa lunged for her son and placed him on the bed. "You're a good boy!" she gasped.

Draco peered at her shrewdly. "Are you saying that just because you want me to stop playing?"

"No! No, I—I just want to see the lovely lollipop you've drawn—"

"It's not a _lollihop_!" Draco yelled, scandalized.

"Lollipop," Narcissa corrected weakly.

"It's a Dark Mark!"

Upon closer inspection, Narcissa speculated that the black blob and wiggly thing that protruded from it _could _be a skull and snake… "Of course," she said, smiling, "Mummy wasn't looking properly. It's _fabulously _drawn Draco! You'll make Daddy so proud!"

Draco smiled, mollified, so Narcissa cautiously released him. "Now," she said soothingly, "Could you please do Mummy a big favour since you're such a big boy? Could you summon Dobby?"

"Why should I?" Draco asked.

Narcissa quelled her growing rage. "I'll give you five galleons," she wheedled.

"Okay," Draco said, hopped off the bed, and skipped off, the rings on his toes clinking against the marble floors. The tiara slipped off his head, but he didn't notice.

Narcissa sighed. "Accio engagement ring." The ring flew into her hands, trailing weeds. "Tergeo," Narcissa commanded wearily, and it was clean moments later. _Sometimes_, Narcissa thought as she surveyed her war zone of a room, _it feels like an heir is just not worth it…_


	2. Won Won

_**A/N:** My sister, ColouredSoul, and my friend/best beta ever, Literary Portals, both laughed like maniacs when they read this one. I hope you like it as well as they do. Reviews pleasey-weasy!_

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><p>An explosion of angry childish screams rent apart the uncharacteristic silence one afternoon at the Burrow. A seven-year-old boy with flaming red hair tore down the staircase, his six-year-old sister in hot pursuit. The girl was wielding a hot pink hobby-horse, hitting her brother over the head with it whenever she could reach him. Her mouth was open in a scream of pure fury, and the boy was bellowing in pain. Upon reaching the foot of the stairs, he fell in a heap. His sister began to beat him viciously with the hobbyhorse.<p>

"Won! You _pwat! _I _hate _you! Nathty, nathty boy!"

"MUM! MUM!" bellowed Ron. "Ginny's killing me! MUM!"

Mrs. Weasley burst in, wielding a wooden spoon. "That's ENOUGH! Ginny!" she cried.

Ginny ignored her, and Ron's bellow of pain was cut short as the hobbyhorse thumped into his face. Ginny raised her arms for another blow, but Mrs. Weasley whipped out her wand. "Expelliarmus!" she roared, and the hobbyhorse flew out of Ginny's grasp and hit the opposite wall. Ginny tried to retrieve it, but Mrs. Weasley grabbed her and deposited her on a nearby sofa. Then she picked up Ron and sat him on a rocking chair.

"Ginny! You must _never_ hit _anyone _with your hobbyhorse! Ron! Exactly _what_ did you do this time?"

"He made fun of Dowa!" Ginny burst into tears.

"Ron! How many times do I have to tell you not to tease your sister's dolls!" snapped Mrs. Weasley.

But Ginny wasn't finished yet. "He thed that Dowa's haiw wath like thpaghetti! And that Mawy's dweth wath like tith'u! And Vewonica's lipth looked like they wath bweeding!"

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley. "Just ignore him! And anyway, Ginny, dear, _you_ know that's not true!_ You _ know that Dora's hair is a lovely curly blonde, and Mary's dress is a ball dress, and Veronica is simply wearing red lipstick!"

Ginny seemed to agree, but if looks could kill, _Ron_ would have been spaghetti. "Won's a _pwat_," she sniffled.

"Am not!" Ron countered.

"No, no, you aren't," said Mrs. Weasley distractedly.

"HE IS!" Ginny burst into tears again.

Mrs. Weasley hurried to comfort her "There, there, dear, don't get so worked up. Why don't you go play with Dora, Mary and Veronica, now?"

"Not 'till he says he's thowy," Ginny shot Ron a dirty look from beneath her tears.

"Ron, say you're sorry to your sister," ordered Mrs. Weasley.

"You're taking sides," Ron's lower lip quivered.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Ginny say sorry to Ron for hitting him with your hobbyhorse, and Ron say sorry to Ginny for saying that Dora's hair was like spaghetti and Mary's dress was like tissue and Veronica's lips were bleeding."

"Okay, but Ginny gets a time-out too," negotiated Ron.

Ginny exploded.

It took several minutes for Mrs. Weasley to calm Ginny down and ask Ron why he shouldn't get a time-out too if Ginny was having one.

"Because," explained Ron in a shout (Ginny was trying to drown him out by pretending Voldemort was putting the Cruciatus Curse on her), "It would show that you're not taking sides."

Which did not suit Ginny at all. She bawled, "IT'S NOT FAIW! WON NEEDS ONE TOO!"

Enough was enough. Mrs. Weasley swelled. " QUIET!" she yelled. Ginny and Ron immediately quieted down. "Either both of you apologize to each other _this blessed minute_, or _both _of you get time-outs and apologize afterwards. Which one?"

Silence. Then, "'Polodize," sniffled Ginny.

"Ron?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

"Apologize," muttered Ron.

Ginny stood up. "Sowwy, Won, foy hitting you wiz my hobby-hoyse."

"Sorry, Ginny, for teasing your dolls," muttered Ron.

But as Ginny stalked upstairs, Mrs. Weasley knew she hadn't really forgiven Ron.

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><p>A little while later Ginny came to find Mrs. Weasley. "Can I have some tinfoil, mum?" she asked. Mrs. Weasley gave it to her. Ginny took it and a pair of scissors upstairs.<p>

Ten minutes later, Ginny and her dolls were out in the yard. Ginny was screaming and shouting, and Mrs. Weasley went out to see who was being murdered. She was horrified to see the doll Veronica, whose flame-red hair had been chopped to a shaggy boycut (obviously done by an amateur hairdresser, as there were several bald patches) hanging by her neck on a tree. Ginny and the dolls Mary and Dora, with tinfoil suits of armour and stick swords, were hacking at stabbing at her with a fury and viciousness most remarkable in one so young.

"_GINNY!_" screamed Mrs. Weasley "_WHAT IN THE NAME OF SWEET CHRISTMAS ARE YOU DOING?"_

"We're killing Won!" cried Ginny. "See? Vewonica is Won! VeWONica! See?"

It took Mrs. Weasley ten minutes to convince Ginny that she was not being nice. "Why not play something else? You always liked to play in the kitchen. Why don't you pretend you're making some food?"

Surprisingly, Ginny agreed, so Mrs. Weasley went back inside.

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><p>Half an hour later, Mrs. Weasley went back outside to check on Ginny. She found her sitting cross-legged next to a hole in the ground filled with water, weeds, flowers, leaves, and what looked like pieces of flesh-coloured plastic, Dora and Mary on her lap.<p>

"That looks nice," said Mrs. Weasley encouragingly, "What is it?"

"Won soup!" said Ginny proudly.

"What?" Mrs. Weasley was flabbergasted.

"See?" Ginny picked up a stick and stirred the mixture with it. Immediately the Ron doll's head bobbed to the surface. "Me and Dowa and Mawy are making Won soup."

Mrs. Weasley gave up.

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><p><em>AN: Well whaddya think?_ _Should I continue this series or not? PLEASE REVIEW!_


	3. Diagon Alley

_**A/N:** Thank you all so much for the reviews and alerts, it means more to me than you can ever imagine. I love you all! Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this chapter and please review!_

_**Editors Note:** I am horrible! DracoCake actually worte this ages ago, and I completely forgot to upload this! ACK!_

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><p>A little girl about five years old skipped along the street in Diagon Alley, her long blonde hair flying behind her.<p>

"Luna, wait!" called the woman walking a few lengths back. Her hair was also long and blonde, and she wore bright scarlet robes and a necklace with the Deathly Hallows pendant hanging down over her chest.

Luna stopped at the door of the Apothecary. "I'm waiting for you, mummy!" she said happily. "Do you have to go in _here_?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Lovegood. "I need some more Billywig wings for my experiment potions. Would you like to come inside or stay here?"

"I'll stay out here, I think," said Luna dreamily. "I like to watch all the interesting people coming and going."

"Don't go anywhere, and don't run after Nargles! Daddy won't be pleased if I come home without you!" Mrs. Lovegood waved and entered the store.

Luna hummed happily to herself for a few moments before she noticed a seven-year-old boy with silver-blond hair staring at her rudely as if she'd just sprouted an Erumpent horn. Abruptly, he asked, "Why is your hair so long?"

"Oh!" said Luna "Mum and I just thought it'd be nice. She's in the Apothecary right now, getting Billywig wings. Where are your parents?"

"Daddy's in the Apothecary, getting Hippogriff claws, and Mummy's at Madame Malkim's because she wants a new set of Chinese silk dress robes with even more diamonds and sapphires than before! And I hate both of them," he added sulkily.

"You hate your Mummy and Daddy?" Luna was amazed.

"They won't let me have a Nimbus One Thousand and Eighty-Nine," explained the boy.

"But they're right!" said Luna "Nimbus One Thousand and Eighty-Nines are really fast, and, and big, and well...they're racing brooms aren't they?"

"Well, yes," said the boy in a tone suggesting she was as stupid as a Wrackspurt.

"Ooh," Luna shuddered. "I'd never dream of asking Mummy and Daddy for anything more than a Shooting Star 'till I'm good and ready, about, um..." Luna thought for a moment. "A hundred years old!" she said seriously. "I'll probably be old enough then."

The boy glared at her. "Are you suggesting that I have inadequate riding skills?"

"Well," Luna looked him up and down. "It depends on what you say you can ride."

"A broomstick, you stupid little girl!" snarled the boy.

"Oh, _that_!" smiled Luna, not noticing the insult. "I thought you meant an Erumpent, you know, or a Hippogriff, or a Thestral, or some fierce creature like that. I don't think you can ride one of those."

The boy swelled. "_And why not?"_ he hissed.

"Wrackspurts!" explained Luna, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Your head's full of them!"

"What in the name of Merlin's nosepicker is a Wrackspurt?" sneered the boy.

Luna was amazed. She'd never seen a sneer this intense on so small a person before.

"Little invisible creatures," explained Luna. "They fly into your head and make your brain all fuzzy. One's entering yours, now."

The boy screamed. Just then his father stepped out of the Apothecary. "Draco! What's the matter?"

"Th-th-that girl said I had a Wrackspurt in my head!" Draco sobbed.

"Wrackspurts don't exist," snapped the man. "That girl's as crazy as her parents. And speaking of girls, I cannot even begin to express my shame at my son's girlish behaviour. In public!"

Draco stopped crying immediately and glared at his dad sulkily.

"And you," Mr. Malfoy addressed Luna. "How dare you fill my son's mind with your pathetic garbage about Wrackspurts?"

"With all due respect, sir," said Luna seriously. "You're being quite unpleasant"

The man was furious. "Insolent little—"

But Luna wasn't finished yet. "Anyway," she continued on as if she hadn't heard. "My Mummy says that there isn't enough space in the world for unpleasant people. Then Daddy says one day, all three of us will build a rocket and load the unpleasant people onto it. Then we'll send it off!" Luna lifted her hands to the sky and twirled in a circle for emphasis.

Mr. Malfoy was so furious he choked on his own tongue. And turned blue.

"Are you okay?" Luna asked, fascinated.

"Oh, he's fine," said Draco "He does that all the time when he's angry. Take no notice."

Mr. Malfoy turned eggplant purple. His blue eyes looked strange among the purple.

"Well..." Draco hesitated. "So...about when are you going to build this rocket?"

"Mummy says it's just a joke, but I know that it's not. One day we really are going to make it. As soon as we save enough money," explained Luna.

"Oh, you can use my inheritance!" said Draco. "I'd like to help." He looked at his dad as if looking forward to the day where he could shove him aboard the rocket and say goodbye forever.

Mr. Malfoy turned black.

"That's very kind of you, but I think Daddy wants to save the money himself," beamed Luna.

"Oh," Draco looked disappointed. "That'll take ages then. And I probably won't be allowed to ever see you again."

"Oh, that's okay!" smiled Luna. "we'll see each other at Hogwarts when we go! I'm sure we'll have saved up by then, it's in six years!"

Mr. Malfoy fainted. The thud when he hit the ground was accompanied not long after by a sound like something wet exploding.

"Ah, his liver's popped again," said Draco happily. "now it has to be magically fixed and he has to be in bed for a week at least. Mummy and I are going to have so much fun in that time. His liver always pops when he gets overly mad. Well, better take him to Mummy!" he seized a handful of Mr. Malfoy's long hair and began dragging him to Madame Malkim's.

"Goodbye!" he said. "See you in six years!"

"Bye!" said Luna. "And don't forget!"

"I won't!" said Draco. And he dragged his dad around the corner.


End file.
